The Hunt
by Razeer
Summary: One year after the slaying of the Udurfrykte, Ulfgar is now the leader of the mead hall of Thirsk, and he is holding a competition known as The Hunt, but the hunter, soon becomes the hunted...
1. Chapter 1: The Hunt

Prologue

It has been exactly one year since Ulfgar ventured to the frozen island of Solstheim in search of his brother Ansgar. This venture lead to him slaying the horrible Udurfrykte, and thus claiming the mead hall of Thirsk as his own. Everything was peaceful, until the day of the great hunt…

Chapter 1: The Hunt

Ulfgar was awakened by the bright light of the sun's beams, falling on his bed through the big window. He sat up, and yawned, before putting on his Stahlrim armor and tucking his battle axe and his short sword into his belt. He hadn't slept very well, partially because of the amount of mead he had consumed last night, but mostly because of a disturbing dream. He didn't remember much of it, except for one particular detail.

He had seen a man, with horns, accompanied by three or four other men, all Nords. The man with the horns said that he wanted Ulfgar to "join the hunt" or something like that, and with that said, the men fell to their knees and let out cries of immense pain. The screams made Ulfgar tremble with fear, but when he tried to run, his legs wouldn't obey him. Instead, they took him closer to the screaming Nords, and when he came close enough, one of them reached out towards him. He tried to back away, but he couldn't move at all, and when the hand came closer he noticed that it was covered with fur. He felt his heart beat faster, and right before the hand grabbed him, he woke up. He had never had this dream before, and therefore he found it very strange.

Eventually he shook it off, and went down the stairs to the great hall. There he was greeted by Svenja Snow-song, the only survivor of the Udurfrykte massacre. "You're up early Ulfgar," she said with a smile, "Maybe you should get ready, the men are already waiting out front". Ulfgar thought for a second, and then it hit him. "The Hunt!" he said, "I had completely forgotten all about it!" He rushed out the front door, and was greeted by a group of men, armed to their teeth with everything from axes and long-swords, to bows and spears.

The Hunt was the Skaals traditional hunting period, where they would hunt down a conjured spirit bear, and the warrior who found and killed it, would receive respect in the village. Ulfgar had taken this spiritual and religious event, and turned it into an annual competition for the inhabitants of Thirsk. The goal in the competition was to gather as many wolf pelts as possible, and the prize was 60 tankards of mead. Ulfgar drew his Stahlrim battle axe, and held it up.

The men stared at the axe, and listened to Ulfgars mighty voice. "This, my friends, is the axe that I used to slay the Udurfrykte with, on this day exactly a year ago". He took a deep breath, and continued. "That is why we shall hold this competition on this day, every year, not only to praise the death of the Udurfrykte, but also to honor it, for it was a mighty foe". Ulfgar was silent for a moment, and then he screamed on the tops of his lungs. "Let the hunt begin!"

**This is the "sequel" to my other bloodmoon story, and I hope that you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it/ Razeer**


	2. Chapter 2: The Curse

Chapter 2: The Curse

In the frozen wastelands of Solstheim, the snow was coming down heavily on the nord men that ran across the plains. Any normal person would probably seek shelter in weathers like this one, but because of the men's heritage they only felt more powerful, more alive in this terrain. One of these men was Ulfgar, newest chieftain of Thirsk and slayer of the horrible Udurfrykte. He was clad in thick fur armour, and wielded a war axe made of stahlrim, magical ice that was as hard as the most durable metal. His long hair and beard was covered in snow, and his clothes were soaked and cold from the snow. Still, he endured all of this only to prove to his fellow nords that he was the most courageous, toughest and strongest of them all. The hunt had been going on for two or three days now and there was still a lot to go. None of the warriors of Thirsk had collected any wolf pelts, and the absence of wolves was a problem that just wouldn't leave Ulfgar's mind. He also thought about the strange dream he had been having the night before the hunt began. In it, he had been ordered by a man with horns to "join the hunt", and he had been surrounded by nord men. These men had reached out for him, and suddenly they started changing into something that looked like wolves. Ulfgar hadn't really given the dream any other thoughts, other than that it was pretty weird.

As Ulfgar climbed a small hill, he realised that these fields were not familiar to him. Despite that he had lived on the island as chieftain of Thirsk for a whole year now, he had never seen this place before. It was a large field, outlined with large boulders and trees. He descended from the hill and strolled into this field, curious of what it might be. He stopped in the middle of the field, and looked around him. He had this nagging feeling of unease stuck in the back of his mind, and he noticed a lot of strange things about this field. He bent down and felt the grass, and it was as warm as a summer day in Morrowind, despite the fact that it should be covered with at least a three-foot layer of snow. He also noticed that there was an unusual absence of sound, not even a wind to break the silence. These things, as strange as it might be, were not the main reasons for his concern. As he had entered the field, he had suddenly recognised the scenery, but he did not know from where. He decided that it was best to leave this place, and come back later on with a couple of his friends to investigate. As he turned around and started to walk, a voice that felt suspiciously familiar, spoke to him.

"_Join the hunt…"_

Ulfgar froze, and for a moment he felt a very strong chill run down his spine. He recognised the feeling, as it was fear that had struck him. He quickly spun around, the stahlrim axe in his hand, and gazed at the shadowy figure that stood a couple of feet before him. Although he could not see the figure very well, he knew the voice and those horns. It was the man from his dream, now standing before him. "Who are you!?" Ulfgar shouted, and you could tell from his voice that this was not a man that he wished to meet. The man simply laughed, and repeated the words again. Ulfgar was feeling very scared at the moment and started to back away. Suddenly, he heard a low growl behind him. He turned around, and to his surprise saw a half naked nord standing there. Ulfgar remembered his face from his dream, and started to pray to the gods that this would end well. The man standing before him suddenly looked very strange, as if he was experiencing some extreme pain. He fell down on his knees, both arms wrapped around his stomach in agony, and he let out a howl much similar to the one of a wolf. Ulfgar noticed that three more nords had surrounded him, cutting off all escape routes. All of them were now on their knees, howling in pain, and Ulfgar readied himself for what was to come.

What followed was like something out of a nightmare. As Ulfgar watched in horror, the nords grew fur all over their bodies. Their teeth got larger and more fang-like, and their hands and feet grew large claws. They all stood up, and Ulfgar knew know what he was facing. _Werewolves_, he thought to himself as he recalled the stories being told in Thirsk. Men and women, seemingly normal during the day, but at night they show their true forms. They turn into ferocious wolves, moving on both two and four legs and strong enough to rip apart even the strongest of men. They hunt during the night, for their curse not only provides them with unparalleled athletic and physical abilities, but also with a longing for the human flesh and blood. Ulfgar thought that this was going to be his end, devoured by werewolves. He thought about the family he once had, and all of the people close to him that are going to be terrorised by these fierce creatures. He especially thought of one person, Svenja Snow-song. He was thinking of how he would never see her again, never feel her scent or hear her laughter. He had failed to protect the people that he cared about. _No_, he thought, _this is not over. _He let out a war cry, and swung his stalhrim axe over his head. He took a quick step towards one of the werewolves and brought the axe down on it with all of his strength. He could feel the axe going into the beast, and blood gushed out of the wound he had caused it. It shrieked loudly and backed away, and to Ulfgar's horror, the wound stopped bleeding and closed up. The werewolf looked at him, and growled angrily. _How can this be? This axe has never failed me! _Ulfgar suddenly remembered a phrase from the tales told to him about these creatures:

"…_Cursed blood runs trough its veins, and the might of silver shall be its bane…"_

He tucked the axe under his belt, and unsheathed a small silver dagger with a blade no longer than the hand of a man. The mere sight of the dagger made the beasts cower in fear. Ulfgar no longer felt scared, as this weapon will be their undoing. He ran towards the werewolf that he had attacked earlier, and stabbed it several times in the chest. The beast fell to the ground, as the wounds started glowing with a silver-coloured glow. It rolled around, trying to get back up on its feet, and soon the rolling turned into more of a twitching motion. Then, the beast closed its eyes and stopped moving. Ulfgar felt a strange satisfaction in ending the beast's life, but that feeling faded as the other three werewolves closed in on him. He waved the dagger in front of him, as he knew that it would scare the beasts and buy him some time. He hardly noticed that there was another werewolf behind him, stealthily moving towards him. Ulfgar turned around to make a run for it, but was knocked to the ground by the werewolf that was behind him. He hit the ground hard and felt the silver dagger, his only protection, slipping and falling from his grip. The werewolf stood above him, closely watching his every move and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Ulfgar reached for the dagger, but it was beyond his fingers and in the corner of his eye, he saw the werewolf making ready for a leap at him. Ulfgar focused, and remembered a spell taught to him by a member of the thieves' guild. He closed his eyes, and muttered a few words. The next second, he felt the dagger's handle in his hand, and thanked the Khajit that had taught him the "Telekinesis" spell. He rolled over, and just as the werewolf leapt into the air, he stabbed the dagger right in its throat. The beast let out a howl that would wake the dead, and it sank its large fangs in Ulfgar's arm. Ulfgar screamed, as he felt the weak armour crumbling under the sheer strength of the werewolf's jaws. He felt the sharp fangs piercing his skin, and a warm fever like feeling spread in his body. The world around him became blurry, and he himself felt like everything just disappeared around him. Just before he passed out, he heard the man's voice once again:

"_Now, You are a part of the hunt as well…"_


	3. Chapter 3: The Beast

**Chapter 3: The Beast**

With a scream, Ulfgar woke up in his bed in Thirsk. He quickly looked around, and then tried to get up. A sharp stinging pain in his arm stopped him, and as he pulled up his sleeve, he saw a bite mark, much similar to the one of a wolf. He recalled last night's incident, with him being attacked by werewolves and hearing that strange voice from his dream. He quickly rolled down the sleeve, as Svenja entered the room. "Ulfgar! You're awake!" He smiled when he saw the joy in her eyes. "Barely," he responded," how long have I been asleep?" Svenja put down a tray with some food and a mug of mead on the table.

"You have been sleeping for three days know…you should thank Reilir, he was the one that found you". She sat down on one of the chairs in the room. "You were unconscious, with that wound on your arm bleeding pretty badly". Ulfgar opened his mouth to speak, when a young man with a full armor walked into the room. He smiled when he saw that Ulfgar was awake, and he also sat down on one of the chairs. "How are you feeling?" he asked, and despite his fierce looks, Ulfgar could tell that he spoke with a worried tone. "I'm a little dizzy, but I'll live". Svenja introduced him as Reilir, a traveling warrior who had been with the people in Thirsk for quite some time now.

Ulfgar felt bad about the fact that he had never bothered to learn the man's name, but Thirsk did have a lot of residents by now, and it would take him at least a week or two to get to know everybody. Ulfgar moaned painfully as he got out of the bed, and looked at Reilir. "My friend, I thank you for what you have done, and I hope that I shall be able to repay you one day". Reilir grinned widely, and raised the mug he had brought with him. "To the chieftain of Thirsk, Ulfgar Beast-slayer". Ulfgar nodded, and laughed loudly. "Come my friends, it's time to meet the others". Ulfgar placed one hand on Svenja's shoulder, and the other on Reilir's and led them out of the room.

The smile on his face briefly changed to a frown of concern as he thought about the creatures he had fought on that night, and how they changed from normal people into bloodthirsty wolf men. He also thought about that voice that had now haunted his dreams for the past nights. He shook his head, and smiled once again as he was led down the stairs to the main hall. The hall was full of people, mostly nords but there were some other races as well. They all stopped what they were doing when they saw Ulfgar coming down the stairs.

Suddenly, the hall erupted in a massive cheer, and Ulfgar thankfully received this gesture of appreciation. He sat down on the throne slowly, and looked out over the hall. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a man standing in the doorway. He didn't look like your everyday traveler, as he was clad in nothing more than a brown robe. He looked old, at least a decade older than anyone in here, and he had blonde hair tied back in a pony tail. Ulfgar stared at this man for a minute or two, and when they made eye contact, the strange man motioned for him to follow him outside. Ulfgar nodded, and slowly got up from the throne.

The snowing had stopped, and now there was just a chilly wind blowing across the plains surrounding the mead hall. Ulfgar grabbed a coat made of bear fur on his way out, and wrapped it around his half-naked body. He saw the man sitting on a tree stump, and he cleared his throat and was just about to speak, when the stranger interrupted him. "My name is Korst Wind-Eye, and I have traveled from the village of Skaal in the north to see you". Ulfgar was surprised of the man's sudden introduction, but nonetheless spoke to him. "What is it that the people of Skaal want of me?" he asked, and Korst looked at him. Korst stood up, and started to tell his story.

Both Ulfgar and Korst sat on the tree stump outside of Thirsk, and Ulfgar was trying to take in the information that he had just been told. "So…you are the shaman of Skaal, right?" he asked, and Korst nodded briefly. "And you have come here, because you sense some disturbance in the natural forces around here". Korst looked at him and smiled. "You probably think that I am crazy, aren't you?" he said and looked at the lake that they had in front of them, lake Fjalding. "I assure you, I'm not…It's just that I feel that there is something not right here, and I have come to investigate".

Ulfgar thought about the attack of the werewolves and the man in his dreams, but decided that he wanted to know more about this guy, before telling him everything. "So, have you noticed anything unusual in the past few days?" he asked, and Ulfgar shook his head. He decided not to tell him about the hunt he had set up for the members of Thirsk, since the inhabitants of Skaal knew the procedure as the Ristaag, and it might be considered a bit blasphemous to use a holy ritual as an annual hunting game.

Korst sighed, and stood up. "If you notice anything out of the ordinary, and I do mean anything, don't hesitate to make a trip to Skaal and visit me, okay?". Ulfgar nodded, and Korst started walking. It was now that Ulfgar noticed that Korst didn't carry any weapons. "Isn't it dangerous to make suck a long trip here without any means of defending yourself?" he asked curiously, and Korst just laughed. "I have all the protection I need" he said, and turned around again. Ulfgar suddenly saw the blurry images of a bear and a wolf walking by Korst's sides. Ulfgar just shook his head, and went back inside.

Around midnight, Ulfgar sat in his throne and stared into the wall on the opposite side of the room. Everyone had already gone to bed, and he was the only one awake. He was thinking of all the weird stuff that had happened to him lately, the dreams, the werewolf attack and now being interrogated by a shaman, whatever that is. He sighed heavily, as he leaned back into the comfortable big throne, and closed his eyes. He soon fell asleep, but was awakened by a voice calling out to him.

"Ulfgar…Ulfgar…"

Ulfgar opened his eyes, but there wasn't anyone there. He sighed and closed his eyes again. He heard the voice once more, still calling his name. He got irritated, and got up from the throne. "Who is th…" Ulfgar stopped, as he noticed that the front door was wide open. _Strange,_ he thought_, didn't I close the door before? _He walked slowly, looking cautiously after any signs of anything that could have opened the door.

He touched the handle of the door and was just about to shut it, when he saw a bright red moon on the sky outside. To his own surprise, he walked out and looked at the moon, without him ordering his body to do so. It was like something else took control of him. The moon was beautiful, he'd admit to that. It was unusually big, and almost hypnotizing. Ulfgar opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out of his mouth, only a low, rumbling howl…


End file.
